


There Will Be Sun

by GamblingDementor



Category: The Wicked Years Series - Gregory Maguire, Wicked - All Media Types
Genre: Body Image, Cunnilingus, F/F, Fluff and Smut, Lesbian Sex, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 09:17:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,857
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15726468
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GamblingDementor/pseuds/GamblingDementor
Summary: Elphaba spent the night awake, but she has plenty of energy for what Glinda offers.Somehow started off as PWP, ended up handling a lot of my headcanons on Elphaba's body image issues. Fun times for all.





	There Will Be Sun

**Author's Note:**

> I intended this as an outtake for my farmers AU, but it can be read independently.

Raindrops pitter-patter against the windows all night long.

 

Elphaba might almost have fallen asleep to the soothing noise if she wasn't so fascinated with the traces of water on the glass, beautiful, entirely without artifice. It's a spectacle almost as engrossing as the sleeping form in their bed, though Elphaba leaves her be, the poor exhausted thing. Buried under all the blankets they own, her little beauty of a wife has snored her night away while Elphaba sits hers out on the edge of the bed, watching the downpour. How utterly magnificent it is, the myriad of paths like as many tree roots across the expanse of the window, but ever changing, and behind them dark greys and blues and purples fighting for their share of canvas in the sky. How unthinkably dangerous as well. Tucked into herself, her chin resting on her folded arms over her knees, Elphaba might have sat there for hours more if tickling fingers at the strip of skin left exposed at the bottom of her back didn't startle her out of her watch.

 

"Uh…"

 

She shivers, breathing out sharply, the sketch of a laugh. Behind her, Glinda stirs, stretches herself, her calf nudging at Elphaba's hip. Next to her, one of the cats imitates her, strikingly similar. Elphaba smiles, but can hardly help turning her gaze back to the window. Though the day is long started, the rain seems to swallow all light, to feed off the sun. With a groan and a sigh, Glinda sits up, her hand stroking Elphaba's arm.

 

"Scared?" Glinda's voice is slurred from sleep, her fingers warm from the tight little cocoon she has barely left, half the blankets still bundled around her.

 

"No," Elphaba replies. The splatter of rain, incessant against the window for hours, the glass pane the only barrier between her and the thick drops. "A little. Did you sleep well?"

 

"Like a kitten," Glinda purrs. "Elphie..."

 

"Mmh?"

 

Glinda pulls onto her arm. Like a puppet, docile and pliable, Elphaba lets herself be toppled backwards, falling back onto the mattress with a muffled breath as she lands face first into the pillow. The cat is shooed off the bed and, with all dignity it can muster, leaves the room. Their bodies entwine and Glinda's arms around her are the most exquisite vice. Elphaba must have been under some foreign subjugation, a weather-induced meditation, to ever believe that this winter sky could ever be half as pleasant to look upon as her Glinda's face. She smiles. It will never cease to be a strange feeling to be here, to be home.

 

"I dreamed of you," Glinda whispers, as low as the rain outside through the walls.

 

Her fingertips are droplets against Elphaba's arms, tracing a hundred routes of softness. There's danger in that touch as well, the danger of temptation, though that is a battle Elphaba would gladly succumb to.

 

"Dreamed of me?" There's something so natural, so extraordinarily ordinary about having Glinda's body pressed against hers this morning, every morning. Her arm around Glinda's waist, she could forget there is a big vast world outside this narrow bed. "And what did you dream, Miss Glinda, pray tell?"

 

Glinda's tongue wets her lip, her legs shuffling against each other. Little by little, her eyes look less tired, though whatever dream she had is still clouding them.

 

"Why, Miss Elphaba," she says and her legs trap Elphaba's, the nightgown bunching around her thighs, "I don't think this type of dream ought to be mentioned in pleasant company."

 

Elphaba's fingers tighten into the fabric at Glinda's back. She indulges Glinda, her caught leg pressing into her, answered in kind by a faint rocking. Despite herself, her voice comes out low and raspy.

 

"Lucky for you, Miss Glinda, I don't think I'm pleasant company at all." Her hand reaches down, grabbing a buttock, squeezing. Glinda's eyes glisten with something wicked then, her fingers clasping at the collar of Elphaba's night shirt. "In fact, I'd say I'm a complete scoundrel."

 

The kiss Glinda gives her leaves Elphaba utterly breathless and, truth be told, feeling entirely naughty as well. The way she bites her lip, the fluttering of her lashes, how tight her hold on Elphaba's heart. She brushes a tendril off of Elphaba's cheek, kisses her again and Elphaba sighs into the kiss, basks in it.

 

"You are," Glinda whispers, pushing on Elphaba's shoulders to take the top position, sitting on Elphaba's thighs and naturally, Elphaba's hands run under her gown to hold her waist. Too much fabric, too much time to wait. "You were. Elphie, can you…"

 

Already Elphaba is sitting up, pushing up the nightgown along, dropped and forgotten on the floor, an arm around Glinda's waist to lock her in place flush against her and also to fight the winter cold on poor Glinda's bare skin. Her mouth attacks the uncovered skin, the soft curve of a beautiful shoulder, and Glinda moans when her lips brush against the breast revealed, arms clasping around Elphaba's shoulders.

 

"Isn't this…" She breathes in sharply at a flick of Elphaba's tongue, her fingernails digging into Elphaba's skin almost painfully. "Yes, darling… Isn't this so much better than a dream?"

 

Her legs part to Elphaba's touch and even with the rain batting outside, even in the middle of a chilly winter, she is burning hot.

 

"I wouldn't know," Elphaba says, who doesn't dream. "I'm content with the real thing."

 

The real thing, it turns out, is warm and wet and pulsing, parting under her fingers as she nudges Glinda open for her. A sigh and Glinda's head falls back in all abandon, her hips already rocking into Elphaba's. Fingers pressing inside, two, the knuckle of a third, she wonders how any image conjured up by a creative mind could ever be compared to this in any way.

 

"My Glinda…" She mutters at Glinda's breast, and she might die for the taste of soft skin, of a nipple perking up with all the attention she lavishes it with. "How beautiful you are."

 

Glinda always loved a good praise. Of course, before, that meant empty courtesies and polite little words exchanged between well bred ladies, that meant Glinda was doing what she was supposed to do and liked the acknowledgment of it, but Elphaba knows just how far a well placed remark can take her, even now.

 

"Do you know, my dear, how completely senseless you make me?"  Glinda moans, rocking herself onto Elphaba's fingers again and again, grinding herself on her palm, the rhythm of their bodies hurried enough for Elphaba's arm to find sweat pearling at Glinda's back even in the cold. "How much I adore every single inch of your…"

 

"Oh, Elphie!" Glinda cuts her and her hands cup Elphaba's face to bring her up for a kiss, rather more forcefully than tenderly. "Take this off, I say."

 

Leaving Elphaba no time to act on the demand, Glinda's insistent fingers unbutton the shirt and Elphaba shrug it off. It bundles around her waist, caught by her elbows, but Glinda seems satisfied. For half a heartbeat, she pauses, and Elphaba tells herself that she could live a thousand lifetimes in this moment, fingers lodged in Glinda's most delicious parts, an arm keeping her close, her breasts ready for more attention. Glinda's fingers ghost over Elphaba's own green chest, her thumb circling over a nipple, the largeness of it the only indication of said chest being indeed female. Glinda promised before she likes it either way.

 

"There, isn't that so much neater?"

 

"Heavenly, my dear."

 

She wraps her arms around Elphaba's neck again to settle the matter with a kiss and Elphaba must admit that the interruption was well worth it. Their breasts rub against each other in the most tempting ways and Glinda, invigorated by the touch, takes complete control over their accelerating pace.

 

"With your thumb as well," she orders and Elphaba presents her thumb for her to grind against as she pleases, rewarded by a moan as Glinda indulges in the added touch. "Elphie…"

 

Glinda makes everything easy but most of all, she makes it easy for Elphaba to feel confident. At the very least easier. When she can make Glinda whimper in pleasure, when Glinda's arms are clamping her shoulders and her nails digging into her skin, her nipples hard against her own chest, when every flick and twist of her fingers inside Glinda is answered with as many hungry kisses, then Elphaba starts to believe that there can be something to herself after all.

 

"Oh, my love, how you make me feel… Almost, dear, almost there… _Oh._ "

 

Glinda's pleasure is as quiet and intimate as it draws to an end as the building up to it was exuberant. Her fingers lose her grasp on Elphaba's shoulders, her face buries into Elphaba's chest and Elphaba might have not known anything if it weren't for the racing pace of her heart and the pulsing of it through her entire body and a specific part in particular clamping onto Elphaba's fingers first hard and fast, then more spaced out as Glinda starts to stir again. She straightens herself back up and has never looked more beautiful to Elphaba, the softness of her in the afterglow only as brief as it takes for her mouth to find the sweaty skin at Elphaba's neck and suckle on it playfully.

 

"Oh, Elphie…" The rasp in her voice is enough for Elphaba's hair to prickle on every inch of her body. "Darling, just let me show you…"

 

Of course, Glinda's body is hers alone, but it's also for Elphaba to take, to cherish every parcel. Glinda has no qualms in letting her have her any way Elphaba might desire − though her actual cravings, while ardently passionate, are more amorous and tender than Elphaba ever thought she would have the taste for. Her own body, damned as it is, is not so freely accessed, something Glinda has always instinctively understood. Her boundaries are simultaneously much more firmly set than Glinda's, and also much more subject of her mood and comfort.

 

It's an effect of the green, she supposes. She finds herself affected with a hatred for her body that only the most devoted caresses from Glinda can assuage. Most of it, she wishes she would never see and more than that, that nobody should have to be exposed to it, especially Glinda. It's a false idea, Glinda tells her, this notion that her body is a curse. She calls it a blessing instead, showers her with affection and love and kiss after kiss, Elphaba has managed to tame the hatred and let herself be taken care of, but the ongoing process is nowhere near its achievement and so, there are many ways she cannot suffer her body to be touched. Glinda notes them all and finds the cracks in between, the little crevasses where love can slip through.

 

"This was in the dream as well," she says as if Elphaba had any representation of what she meant. "And it has been for years, you know."

 

Pressing on Elphaba's shoulders, she makes her lie down on the heap of pillows and though Elphaba's nature wants her stiff and hyper aware, under Glinda's care, she feels as pliable and malleable as a fresh sapling.

 

"We could live off this," she mutters into Elphaba's hair as she sucks a lovebite into the crook of her neck and a matching one on the other side for good measure. "What would you say to that, dear? I'll stop cooking, and instead, all day long, I'd eat your…"

 

Her fingers tickle just under Elphaba's navel and she cuts her sharply, bucking her hips up.

 

" _Yes,_ yes, very well, you may proceed." Glinda giggles at her impatience, the laughter warm against Elphaba's skin. Kisses brush down a path at her collarbone, pausing at the barely-existing breast, toying with the sensitive skin of Elphaba's belly, who lets out a sigh she'd been keeping in. "Don't come and complain at my door when you have food deficiencies."

 

"Why, Miss Elphaba, one might think you would be bitter with all that gloomy talk." The trail of kisses is almost at its destination, a last one above the patch of hair, then a tongue darting out, daring a first taste below. "You're not, though." Her tongue flattens, a firmer caress, and the last vision Elphaba sees before covering her eyes is the sky blue of Glinda's teasing gaze. "You're sweet as a peach."

 

Some other time, Elphaba would have found a clever word, something about a greener vegetable and finding more appropriate metaphors. Some time when Glinda would not be driving her to madness with one dart of her tongue. Instead, she loses all sense of her own intelligence, of her own dignity and leaves herself for the time present to Glinda's gentle care. Fingers tap at her hip, asking for her hand and Elphaba gives it. Palm against palm, the comfort of Glinda's touch, she could almost forget how vulnerable she feels. Her eyes squeezed shut, tight fist covering them, she could forget so many things that aren't strictly her pleasure at Glinda's mercy.

 

"There, easy," Glinda purrs softly. Her hand presses down against Elphaba's belly, holding her still. "Quiet, my sweet, there's nothing to fret about."

 

Elphaba doesn't fret, but there is a tension to her whenever she uncovers her body that only Glinda can uncoil, and sometimes with great difficulty. Glinda may enjoy her body being toyed with and maneuvered around, but that's not for Elphaba. Most of the time, she can hardly stand being played with except for the relevant areas, can't suffer so many parts of herself being touched or prodded, not when she's naked and so very green. So Glinda leaves them be, focuses her entire attention to the part that matters, the part that brings them both such satisfaction. Glinda loves being filled with Elphaba's tongue, her fingers, sometimes other things that fall into their hands, but Elphaba can't bear the sensation of anything foreign inside her even for an instant. So Glinda finds her ways to satisfy her without invasion. It's a constant calculation of what her wicked mind will allow her to suffer and Glinda finding the most tender ways to indulge her.

 

"Aren't you just a treat?" Glinda says and Elphaba is never sure if the words are meant to be heard or if Glinda's teases are for her own amusement only.

 

Lips curl around her, something gentle, something sweet that leaves Elphaba craving to be held. In the sore absence of an embrace, the next best thing is squeezing Glinda's hand and the single reply of her thumb stroking a wrist reassuringly. Fingers brush against the wetness below, tracing the shape of Elphaba a thousand times, lips and tongue following their path, a waltz of caresses that leaves her groaning through clenched teeth.

 

"Do you like that?" Glinda's voice is far in the distance but closer with every heartbeat. It'd be cheating for Elphaba to try to forget that her body actually belongs to her, to find the way out of herself. Glinda always insists on bringing her back in the moment, in the connection. "Does this feel good?"

 

"Yes," Elphaba replies and is rewarded by a more insistent touch, Glinda's tongue tracing slow circles around her clit like they have all the time in the world, tasting her like she wants to enjoy every last drop. "Yes, it feels very good."

 

She feels Glinda smile against her and the groan it prompts in her is freer than before, easier. Her muscles don't feel quite as tense and, though with hesitation, she lifts the hand covering her eyes to glance down at Glinda. Half her face swallowed between her legs, there's only the teasing eyes, a heaven in which she might get lost.

 

"Very good," Glinda repeats. Her fingers replace her tongue, trapping Elphaba's engulfed clit in a terrible vice of bliss and heat, bringing her almost at the edge, then two steps back. Kisses against the inside of her thighs, Glinda tames every fire she lit up before taking a taste of the arousal that is entirely her doing, another sort of kiss. "Yes, very good."

 

Glinda, who was so eager to take her pleasure as fast as she could, hands hers out to Elphaba bit by bit, little by little and for that, Elphaba is grateful. It takes time to become used to being the single center of attention in their lovemaking. It takes time to stop her inner jeremiads about everything she hates, the odd pointy shape of her very green limbs, the bony body they're attached to that she tries her best to ignore at any given time. Under Glinda's touch, Elphaba starts to believe that there might be something comely to herself after all. She starts to like the idea. Looking into Glinda's eyes when they make love is looking into a mirror of everything she could be, everything she can be right now if only she could see it.

 

"You're beautiful," Glinda tells her and Elphaba doesn't know which is harder to resist, her touch or her words, until she corrects herself, "no, _handsome_."

 

It's a complete toppling over, an abandon of all restraint. Elphaba bites her lip, but it's not enough and she quickly grabs a pillow, groans into it, burying her face into plump softness as her body gives itself over to Glinda for a short instant. Glinda's fingers squeeze into her sides in good rhythm and to Elphaba, it feels like their bodies are one, like every tide of pleasure starting in herself is washing over Glinda's body as well, a single body, a single mind. If there was ever a moment Elphaba could believe in souls, this would be that instant. There is a touch of the supernatural in the way her body pulses and contorts itself numbly at Glinda's mouth. She counts the seconds, eleven, twelve, thirteen, but her minds runs out of numbers and she lays there helplessly. The hand that holds Glinda's is clasping very tight indeed, her spirit climbing high and Glinda lets her come back down from it patiently.

 

"There, darling," she whispers and the warmth of her breath against Elphaba is as intimate as the touch that came before. "You're everything perfect."

 

In those instants, and indeed more and more as time goes on, as her life entwines itself around Glinda's, she could almost believe her. She pulls off the pillow from her face and blinks. Her breath is catching up slowly.

 

"Glinda…" Her voice hardly sounds like her own. "Thank you."

 

A giggle and Glinda brings to her lips the green hand that never left hers. Her chin is moist. Elphaba gulps.

 

"Now, what do you say," Glinda offers, gently brushing hair off Elphaba's face like it's the most precious thing she's ever touched in her life, "to breakfast served right here and staying in bed all morning?"

 

Elphaba nods. She feels much more exhausted than she did before, though the night spent awake staring at the darkened skies has nothing to do with it. Glinda smiles and, after a kiss at her forehead, hops off their little bed. She's about to leave the room when she catches a glimpse out the window and stops right in her tracks.

 

"Well, would you look at that," she comments and takes a step to the side to give Elphaba ample view. "After rain comes the sun."

 

The angry sky has quieted down, a blend of pale yellows and blues. Across the vastness of the horizon, unbroken in the distance, a rainbow. The raindrops on the window echo it on Glinda's arm, a bracelet of many hues. Elphaba sits up to have a proper look, the same watchful position as the rest of the night, though her back feels much less stiff, her posture more relaxed. Glinda's fingers pat a goodbye on her shoulder on her way out and she hears her steps downstairs. Elphaba's skin holds the memory of the touch long after the steps have echoed away.

 

"The sun will shine…"

 

Patches of warmth on her arms make her skin look bright as an apple, a charming color. In a moment of overconfidence, the sun makes Elphaba truly think herself handsome, the glow of green skin under the rainbow. She smiles, hugging herself. In the kitchen, she can hear some sizzling on the stove and the dulled sound of Glinda singing to herself. She can hear happiness. Pulling the covers back over her body, she buries herself in their comfort and grins at the ceiling for her luck.

 

"I hope you're in the mood for pancakes," Glinda announces, pushing the door open with her behind, "and peaches, because I was. There is tea if you want it, but I think the cats drank some while I wasn't looking, so you'll have it at your own risk… Elphie, what is it?"

 

Elphaba pulls closed a mouth that had gaped open at the sight of her Glinda entering the room entirely naked if it weren't for the frilly pink apron covering nothing at all. The tray she's carrying is smelling heavenly and Elphaba cannot decide which makes her mouth water more. In fact, as Glinda takes a few more steps and reveal even more skin from the sides, she can decide very well after all.

 

"Tea sounds nice," she says, shuffling the covers to give room for Glinda to sit and place the breakfast tray between the two of them. "You spoil me, dear."

 

"Maybe I like seeing you spoiled," Glinda smiles. She serves her a huge plateful heaps of pancakes threatening to topple from the plate. "Enjoy, darling."

 

They eat in comfortable silence. Outside, the birds have woken up and are starting to sing. Sunshine is falling on Glinda's hair, illuminating it in all beauty and glory. It's falling on Elphaba's arms, her face, the green of it lighter, breezier. She looks at Glinda munching on a too big bite of pancake, her cheeks all round with it. Glinda attempts a smile, but giggles into it and with great difficulty, swallows the bite before shoveling down another forkful. Elphaba finds nothing to say to that, not a joke, not a piece of sarcasm. There's a shyness always clinging to her after they've made love that takes time to wash away, for her to regain her composure and her mind. Glinda gives her all that time and more.

 

It's mornings like these, a chain of moments building onto one another amounting to a full life, and that life is entirely bound to Glinda's. It's watching the rain and knowing the sun will come. It's holding Glinda's hand even at her most vulnerable, when that vulnerable is terrifying and desirable in equal parts. It's peaches and pancakes and cats sneaking through the door to beg for scraps and mornings in bed and it's theirs. And if she loves Glinda as much as Glinda loves her, then she supposes the road they take together might lead her to loving herself as well.

 


End file.
